


Know Your Place

by AeonDelirium



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: ASoIaF Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-26 01:14:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1669295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeonDelirium/pseuds/AeonDelirium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roose is displeased with Ramsay and decides to teach him a lesson.</p><p>Written for the asoiaf kinkmeme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Know Your Place

“It is very important to know your place.” Lord Roose’s fingers slipped around his wrist like spider silk, so gentle it almost hurt. Ramsay only ever yanked and pulled and shoved him into position, making it blessedly easy to become a doll, dull to what was being done to him. This however … this was different.  
Reek froze, eyes cast to the ground. He’d been a shadow tonight, he thought desperately, he’d been so good, no one had taken notice of him as he slipped past their chairs, picking up crumbs and morsels whenever he could. No one had so much as looked at him tonight, not even Ramsay.  
“Yes, m’lord,” he finally managed, keeping his head carefully lowered. What else could he say? _Yes, m’lord_ and _no, m’lord,_ those were the good answers. So long as he stayed within their boundaries he was safe. Or so he told himself.  
“He knows his place well enough,” Ramsay snapped from the other end of the table, making Reek flinch to the very core of his being. “Don’t you, Reek?”  
Reek nodded, eyelids twitching nervously. Expecting a blow. Expecting pain. “Y- yes, m’lord,” he repeated. His voice was thin.  
“Perhaps he does.” Lord Roose’s voice was soft, softer even than the touch of his fingers that still encircled Reek’s wrist, thumb brushing over jutting bones in a way that seemed almost absent-minded. Reek knew better. _Nothing_ Roose Bolton did was ever absent-minded.  
“But do you?”  
Reek could almost _feel_ the ugly flush that was creeping up Ramsay’s throat without needing to see it. He knew what Ramsay would be like, later, in the dark, after his father had chastised him. Nothing could have terrified him more.  
  
“My men tell me you’ve been out hunting again.”  
Reek’s breath caught in his throat when the grip tightened ever so slightly, pulling him closer, making him bend. He dared not struggle, not even when he came face to face with Lord Roose, his straight nose almost touching his own, his breath warm and sterile on his lips.  
Ramsay made a frustrated sound. “Father, what –”  
“Whatever I want,” Roose replied softly before his son had finished, and brushed a strand of dirty hair out of Reek’s face. “A concept you seem to be rather familiar with.”  
Reek pressed his lips together when he heard Ramsay’s chair scrape against the stone floor as he rose. It was all he could do not to whimper, torn between the urge to yank his arm away and run and the terrible threat emanating from Roose Bolton’s pale eyes.

“My men tell me you have been enjoying Lord Greyjoy’s company often as of late.”  
Reek felt a shiver crawl across his back at the way he stretched the word _company,_ but even worse than that was the name, the wrong name, _that’s not my name._ He began to shake his head, but froze again when Lord Roose’s hand left his face, dropping down instead to work on the lacing of his breeches.  
Ramsay bristled. “He is _mine,_ you can’t just –”  
“That girl you killed today,” Roose interrupted, his voice still calm, but sharp as a blade of ice, “she was _mine._ Mine. Not yours to be wasted on your abominable sport.” He let go of Reek’s wrist, commanding him with his eyes to remain where he was as he stripped away his rags, peeling his filthy second skin from him as Ramsay watched. Reek forced himself to breathe evenly, but it was becoming increasingly difficult, his vision blurring with fear while cool air and heat from the fire mingled on his bare back.  
  
Across the table, Ramsay ground his teeth, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. _Powerless._ “She was just some servant.”  
“ _My_ servant. Whom you killed on _my_ lands.” Lord Roose gave his son a cold look. “You forget who you are, bastard.”  
With that he rose, pushing Reek against the table top until he lost his balance, a soft gasp escaping him as his back hit the wood. He could not help himself but crane his neck to catch a glimpse of Ramsay, then wished he hadn’t, as the sight sent a shudder through his body that set him trembling. _He’ll hurt me. He’ll hurt me, they both will._ He was almost ready to open his mouth and plead when Roose’s hands returned, still gentle and ghostly, barely a breath of skin upon his skin.  
“I will not hurt you,” he said softly, as if he had read his mind, resting his hands on his knees. “Unlike my son, I understand that in order to make the most of something you ought not to break it.”  
Reek stared up at him from large, unbelieving eyes. The slightest smile touched a corner of Lord Roose’s thin mouth.  
“Now spread your legs.”  
He lay there for a moment, unable to move had he wanted to. He tried, truly, tried to tell himself they were alone, that Ramsay was not watching, but he knew he was. He could feel his eyes on him, as cold as his father’s and infinitely more wrathful.  
“M’lord please,” he whimpered, when finally Roose pushed his legs apart with gentle force. The man did not reply, instead reaching for a small dish that must have contained oil or butter, his fingers glistening when he rubbed them together, raising them to his face. Making sure Ramsay could see. And Ramsay saw.  
“You wouldn’t dare,” he growled breathlessly. His father quirked an eyebrow, barely noticeable. The smile had left his face.  
“Would I not? How curious that you should say that.” Reek gasped when he felt the fingertips between his legs. He squeezed his eyes shut instinctively, bracing himself. But the pain did not come.  
“Your mother said the same.”


End file.
